The Second Trial of Bellatrix Lestrange
by Hazuzu
Summary: The time has come for Bellatrix Lestrange to face justice. Everyone knows she's guilty, that she'll be sent to Azkaban, that it will be the first triumph of Kingsley Shacklebolt's office. Everyone but Bellatrix's attorney.


This story was written for the 10th Round of the Seventh Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm writing as Chaser 3 for The Tutshill Tornados.

**Name of Round:** Kill Them or Save Them

**My task this round is as follows:** Save Them - Bellatrix Lestrange

**These are the prompts I'm using to as a chaser to score some extra points:**

7\. (song) "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor

9\. (spell) Crucio

10\. (word) impact

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any part of Harry Potter.

Thanks to all my betas!

**WARNING:** Mention of death/torture

**Title:** The Second Trial of Bellatrix Lestrange

**Words:** 3,000 (GoogleDocs/LibreOffice)

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~End of Author's Notes~

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The walls of the Wizengamot had changed. The dark stone had been replaced with white and the dim torches removed to make way for lanterns that lit every corner of the chamber. Kingsley Shacklebolt had made it so; no longer would Britain's laws be passed in darkness, by figures cast in so many shadows that defendants could not recognize their faces.

But the plum robes were allowed to stay. They were, after all, quite stylish.

The benches of the Wizengamot were packed so tightly that there was barely room to turn one's head, but there were only two figures at the center of the room. The seated woman had a mien anyone would recognize, with pallid skin that stretched over high cheekbones and eyes dark enough to swallow the night. She kept her head perfectly level, with nary a twitch to mar her passive expression.

Another woman stood to her right. Her robes were bright blue, gilded along the edges, and clung to her lanky frame like a lethifold. Her hair was braided as a crown, her smile fixed and whiter than the walls, but it was her eyes that drew the Wizengamot's attention. They were hungry, and they followed everyone no matter how still they sat.

"The trial of Bellatrix Lestrange on the nineteenth of July," announced Kingsley Shacklebolt, "into the many offenses committed by Bellatrix Lestrange, the extent of which the Wizengamot, the defendant, and their attorney have been briefed on. Interrogators: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic; Gawain Robards, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley. Attorney for the Defense, Brandy Gryphon."

The woman beside Balltrix kissed the fingertips of both hands, then spread them before her.

"I've never heard of her," came a voice from the rear benches. A few titters followed.

"I'm Boston's favorite daughter and the best attorney this side of the grave." Brandy pointed to her eye, then the wizard who'd said it. "That's all you need to know."

Shacklebolt retrieved a page of parchment from the pile on his bench. "The charges against the accused are as follows: that she did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of her actions, commit murders, assaults, tortures, used the Unforgiveable Curses, and engaged in domestic terrorism." He met Bellatrix's gaze unflinchingly. "You are Bellatrix Lestrange, of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire?"

Bellatrix's lips twitched. "Oh, yes. That's me."

"How do you plead, Mrs. Lestrange?"

"Not guilty!"

The impact of Bellatrix's gleeful declaration could be felt throughout the room. Whispers from every seat in the Wizengamot, scoffs that echoed off the walls, and even a few gasps from the rear benches.

Shacklebolt's face was a stony mask."Silence!" his voice cut through the noise and silence reigned. "Mr. Robards, the first piece of evidence, please," The skinny man to his side pulled a small box out from under the bench, along with a piece of parchment. The box creaked open to reveal a narrow brown wand with a simple cylindrical handle and a tapered tip. "This wand was found in Mrs. Lestrange's possession at the Battle of Hogwarts. Priori incantatem has divined the last spells cast by Mrs. Lestrange, a list of which is included in the court record."

"In Mrs. Lestrange's possession..." Brandy's Boston drawl bounced off of the walls as she tapped her chin. "Hold that thought, Mr. Shacklebolt. If you'll kindly refer to the After Action Report, Battle of Hogwarts, Chapter Nine, you'll find the Auror's report of Mrs. Lestrange's capture in the Great Hall, following the death of Tom Riddle." Bellatrix shot a glare at Brandy. "This is an official Ministry document, is it not? Signed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, among others?"

"It is."

"Well, in this account of the aftermath, it reads that the wand was found near where Mrs. Lestrange was captured. Near, _near_. Not in her hand, or on her person, but near." Brandy took a long inhale through her teeth. "Does proximity prove ownership? Is my client now in possession of this fine chair?" she asked, as she rapped her slender knuckles on the back of Bellatrix's seat.

"It is n—"

"I'm not finished, Mr. Shacklebolt." Brandy held up a quieting finger. "There were hundreds of combatants at the Battle of Hogwarts, most of them wand-wielders of various kinds. Any wand can go anywhere, doubly so with hexes flying around, disarming charms everywhere you look. Who's to say that wand has ever touched Mrs. Lestrange's fingers? Or that it's not the possession of one of Hogwart's lost souls?"

"It is not merely proximity that was used to determine Mrs. Lestrange's possession," Shacklebolt continued as if he had never been interrupted. "There are several eyewitness accounts from the battle."

"I have read the court record." Brandy wagged her finger at Shacklebolt. "And I find these eyewitness accounts...unconvincing. The wand, as finely made as it may be, is utterly unremarkable. It has no distinguishing features, not even a rare wood!. Let alone in the middle of battle, while you're fighting for your very life"

"You're saying that the evidence is unreliable, is that right?" came the gravelly voice of Gawain Robards.

"That's just right. Mr. Robards." Brandy bowed her head. "The proximity is coincidental and the eyewitness accounts? Undependable."

Gawain rubbed his smooth chin and exchanged a glance with Shacklebolt. "You deny your client owns the wand?"

"I do."

"There's a simple way to prove it, ain't there?" Gawain rubbed his hands together. "If it's proven Mrs. Lestrange is the wand's master, will that satisfy the defense?"

Brandy gasped and held a hand to her heart. "It would."

"We have a procedure for this." Robards made a small gesture with his wand. A house elf carrying a hefty tome appeared on the bench. "I will cast a random, harmless charm, provided by this house elf, with the wand, and so will Mrs. Lestrange. If the effect is more potent in Mrs. Lestrange's hands, she will be considered the master of the wand. Does that suit you, Ms. Gryphon?"

"The defense..." Brandy touched her braid. "Will accept this test.". Bellatrix's fingers clutched the arm of her chair.

"Great." Robards grasped the boxed wand and nodded at the house elf. They picked a page and presented it to him. With a flick of his wrist, a pink bubble appeared at the end of the wand. The head-sized bubble floated upwards a few feet, then disintegrated.

"You should do that professionally," Bellatrix sneered.

The wand was passed to the elf, who then apparated to the side of Bellatrix's chair. The Aurors at the door kept a close eye on her as she snatched the wand, read the opened tome, and cast the charm.

The bubble grew to the size of a gumball.

Then the size of a fist.

Then the size of her head.

Then it stopped. It floated a few feet into the air, then disappeared to the tune of various whispers around the courtroom. Gawain's lips twisted to the side, a toothy grin spread across Brandy's face, and Shacklebolt shook his head minutely.

"Consider the wand put aside. For now."

"Oh dear, what a shame," Bellatrix snickered.

Shacklebolt gestured to the house elf, who didn't have a chance to catch the wand before it was thrown in their face. It disappeared with another crack. "I wonder, Ms. Gryphon, whether you will have any objections when it comes to the second. Mr. Robards?"

There was a little grumble from Gawain as he placed a second box on the bench and opened it to reveal a dark wooden wand. Its handle was curved like a scythe and made up for most of its length. A few members of the Wizengamot muttered among themselves in the second row.

"Well, that wa—"

"I'm not finished, Ms. Gryphon." A few titters emerged from the Wizegamot. "This wand is Mrs. Lestrange's. It was purchased from Ollivanders on the Twelfth of July, Nineteen Sixty-Two by Bellatrix Lestrange, then Black. It was a key component of her trial in 1981, several people have identified it as belonging to her, and all of them did so outside of a battling scenario." Shacklebolt quirked an eyebrow at Brandy. "Do you have any objections?"

"Not a one." Brandy preened her hair. "Well… Unless you're planning to use it as evidence that my client committed those crimes?"

"We are," Shacklebolt said. Gawain nodded.

"A shame. A _shame_." Brandy sighed and let it hang in the air. "It's simply that this wand has not been in Mrs. Lestrange's possession for months. Any priori incantatem will be inaccurate when it comes to pinning these crimes on my client."

"Utterly useless." Bellatrix shook her dark curls.

"Those records will not be necessary." Shacklebolt shifted another piece of parchment on his bench. "On the eighth of April, Nineteen Ninety-Eight, this wand, in Mrs. Lestrange's possession, was used to torture Miss Hermione Granger."

"Well, so the witnesses claim." Brandy leaned in with her eyebrows raised.

"Indeed."

"The problem with that is… Well, their testimonies aren't valid." Angry muttering swarmed across the benches. "Bear with me," Brandy told the room with a glint in her eye. "It's a bold, _bold_ claim, but I'm ready to rise up to the challenge. The testimonies of the witnesses, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Garrick Ollivander, Dean Thomas, Draco Malfoy, and the goblin Griphook do not describe seeing anything. They heard screams, demands, but no spells!"

"You don't need Crucio to torture someone," Gawain growled. Bellatrix met his glare with an innocent tilt of her head.

"You're right." Brandy spread her hands before her magnanimously. "But hold that thought. Miss Granger doesn't have a mark on her. No records at all."

"It's been over a year since it happened, and months since she was in a position to," Gawain said.

"Well, that is not my problem, Mr. Robards." Brandy waved a dismissive hand. "It's the prosecution's job to prove their claims, and there's no proof here. If Miss Granger were interested in justice, she ought to have alerted the Ministry earlier." Her words impacted the whole room, as feet were shuffled and curses muttered.

"We still have her testimony," Shacklebolt pointed out, a sentinel of serenity amidst the buzzing Wizengamot.

"Well, a testimony without evidence? From a teenager with prejudice against Mrs. Lestrange for perceived, _perceived_ wrongs? Including romantic ties to two individuals who have repeatedly made their distaste for Mrs. Lestrange known to their peers and, a couple of times, the public?" Brandy threw her hands in the air. "I suppose, _suppose_ we could consider that testimony valid."

"When was this claim made to the public?" Gawain demanded. Bellatrix jumped in her chair and giggled.

"Well, it's not permissible as evidence…" Brandy gazed off to the side."But I do happen to have a copy of a recent Daily Prophet with me." She reached into her sleeve and drew the rolled-up newspaper with a flourish. She licked her thumb and flicked through the first few pages, then cleared her throat.

"The upcoming trial of Bellatrix Lestrange, renowned Death Eater and right-hand to the wizard formerly known as Voldemort. It promises to set a precedent for the cases of every Death Eater to follow and impact the public perception of the new Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Daily Prophet has reached to various key figures in the defeat of Voldemort, including the publicly-dubbed Golden Trio, for comment. Ronald Weasley had only one thing to say: 'She killed my mum. Let her rot.'"

The air in the courtroom changed to sober silence. The only individuals who seemed to be enjoying themselves were at the center, surrounded by stacked judges and stacked odds. Both of them were smiling. Brandy's was a lot whiter, half-hidden behind a hand held up in feigned surprise, Bellatrix's was a lot wider, but both were hungry.

"I think this is enough of a farce," Shacklebolt eventually said. "Both wands may be inadmissible. The testimonies at Malfoy Manor may be unreliable. But they account for very little of the charges. We can sit here and debate for however long it takes, for each case, or admit what everyone here already knows: Mrs. Lestrange is guilty."

"I am not," Bellatrix sneered between clenched teeth.

"I don't need to debate each case, Mr. Shacklebolt. And I will admit nothing. I've went the distance, and I'm not going to stop seeking justice just because of the Wizengamot's feelings." Even Brandy's words had teeth. "But you are correct—this has been a farce. That evidence doesn't matter .Bellatrix Lestrange never, _never_ committed any of these crimes." She leaned on her back foot and let her head loll back, basking in the fury that followed.

"She tortured the Longbottoms!" someone bellowed..

"She terrorized all of us!"

"She broke out of Azkaban!"

"Silence!" Shacklebolt boomed and it fell. "They raise a good point, Mrs. Gryphon." He leaned forward. "Do you have a rebuttal?"

"Well, the Ministry granted Bellatrix Lestrange clemency for her past crimes," Brandy patted Bellatrix's shoulder. "That's a straight matter of record. They cannot, _cannot_ be used against her in court, and that clemency cannot be revoked. It is irrelevant to this case."

Shacklebolt inhaled. "It is true. Mrs. Lestrange has been granted clemency. But not from the charges brought against her in this case."

Brandy released a breath that seemed to shudder along with her. "Because, well, the charges are nonsense, Mr. Shacklebolt. I've read every one of them." She strolled in front of Bellatrix. "And, in every case, she was acting well within the limits of the law."

Bellatrix was nodding vigorously. "Very legal, Shackles."

"Explain," Gawain snarled.

"It's simple." Brandy held her palms out at either side and let the newspaper dangle in one. "All the violence in these alleged, _alleged_ crimes would be protected as a consequence of violating the Muggle-Born Registration Commission or as part of action against domestic terrorism, both covered by the Thicknesse Vigilantism Amendment of 1997. The Battle of Hogwarts, the skirmish at Malfoy Manor. They were all against insurrectionists, Muggle-Borns avoiding the Commission or allies of either. Therefore"—she held up a finger—"they were legal." She let it fall.

"Those laws have been repealed," Shacklebolt said sternly.

"Well, they were not at the time," Brandy repeated, a hand on her hip and her eye contact unbroken. "They were the law."

Shacklebolt drew back in his seat. "The law is not a matter of technicalities, Ms. Gryphon. I do not know why you have come from across the sea to defend the vile woman you stand beside. Perhaps your reputed thrill-seeking extends even to defending someone so obviously guilty, but it doesn't matter. The law in Britain is a matter of justice, true justice, and it will not be moved by a silver tongue. Perhaps it was before, but not now. Not on my watch."

"Mrs. Lestrange has more victims than anyone can count or should have to. Parents, children, siblings, people whose lives were only their own, but were no less valuable. She has tortured, terrorized, and proved her sadism time and time again. I have seen it with my own eyes, as I'm sure many here have. To allow her, and others, to walk free would be the greatest injustice this courtroom has seen in decades, and an insult to all she has ever harmed." He paused. "But it is not for me to decide. I put my trust in the Wizengamot. All in favor of clearing the charges against the accused?"

Bellatrix's jaw fell open, her head snapped to her lawyer.

Brandy licked her lips.

"Hold that thought, Mr. Shacklebolt! In your inauguration speech, you promised a new dawn for justice and love in Wizarding Britain." She flipped to the front page of the Daily Prophet, featuring Shacklebolt standing at a podium, and held it up for everyone to see. "No More Says Shacklebolt, it says. No more Snatchers, no more Dementors, no more corrupt courts where people are condemned without due trial.

"Does this trial seem due to you?" Brandy asked. "She acted under the laws of this Ministry at the time. She was granted clemency by this Ministry. She has, as far as the law is concerned, committed no crimes. You may disagree with those laws, you may repeal them now that you're in power, but by doing this, you would prove that you're no less corrupt than the ones who laid the last."

"The law must be equal, the law must be clear, and the law must be fair," Brandy went on, passion alight in her eyes. "Otherwise, what is the point? How can anyone have faith in the system, trust in its laws, and believe in their leader, when the foundations of their society can be changed by the whims of the powerful? What kind of message is it, to condemn a woman who has done no wrong? What will people take away from your first act as Minister being a conjured conviction? What impact will that have on the rest of your career, Mr. Shacklebolt? On British politics?"

Brandy tossed the newspaper onto Bellatrix's lap.

"But, what do I care?" Brandy shrugged. "I'm not the one who suffers from the precedent of a court that bases its verdicts on whims."

One by one, hands were raised behind Shacklebolt. Every one of them was unsteady, their faces solemn, but still they were raised.

"And those in favor of conviction?" Shacklebolt asked.

A few hands rose, firm in their resolve.

"Very well." Shacklebolt's hands were still. Bellatrix's grin was wide. Delight poured from Brandy's every pore. "Cleared of all charges."

"Thank you kindly, Mr. Shacklebolt, Mr. Robards, Madams and Misters of the Wizengamot. Do contact me if you ever need a woman who knows her way around a courtroom. Nothing boring, please." Brandy blew the court a dozen kisses as she stalked backwards and Bellatrix sprung after her with manic cackle.

Shacklebolt was left to deal with the impact.


End file.
